


While You're Busy Making Other Plans

by flaming_muse



Category: Glee
Genre: Episode Tag, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-04
Updated: 2011-11-04
Packaged: 2017-10-25 17:04:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/272677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flaming_muse/pseuds/flaming_muse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Life is what happens... while you’re busy making other plans.” (John Lennon)</p><p>episode tag for 3x04 ("Pot o' Gold")</p>
            </blockquote>





	While You're Busy Making Other Plans

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Deutsch available: [While You're Busy Making Other Plans](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9713015) by [Klaineship](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Klaineship/pseuds/Klaineship)



“I don’t know, Kurt. I still think her hair color suits her,” Blaine said, frowning at the stiff, smiling image of Nancy Grace on the screen of Kurt’s laptop where it rested on the coffee table in Kurt’s living room. “I mean, I’d go a couple of shades darker, and the cut is horrible, I agree, but I think she’s meant to be a blonde.”

Kurt twisted on the couch to stare at him, because what Blaine was saying was beyond comprehension, even though it was about the twentieth time they’d had had this conversation over recent weeks. “Are you colorblind? Is that it? Have you been hiding that from me all this time? Is that why you liked wearing a uniform so much?”

Blaine laughed and shook his head. “No, I’m not hiding anything from you; I’m just disagreeing with you.”

“I think that’s worse,” Kurt said, slumping back against the cushions, but he reached out to pat Blaine’s arm to show that he was kidding. Mostly. Nancy Grace would look twenty times better and at least eight years younger as a brunette, but one of the things he’d learned from being in a relationship was that you just couldn’t make your boyfriend agree with you about everything, even when you were right. Which, of course, he was.

Finn wandered into the room, glanced at the picture on the laptop, and said, “You’re still on that? Dude, no matter what you do, she’s still going to be kind of scary.”

“Makeovers can work miracles,” Kurt told him.

“Besides,” Blaine added, “things are more fun when they’re a challenge.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Finn muttered, shooting Blaine the narrow-eyed look he’d been perfecting since Blaine had transferred.

Kurt narrowed his own eyes in response. He knew Blaine didn’t need or - more importantly - want Kurt to stand up for him when Finn was being prickly, but Kurt also knew his own temper; at some point soon he was going to snap if Finn didn’t cut it out. It was _not_ going to be pretty.

“Hey, guys,” Burt said as he came into the room. “What’s going on?” He lowered himself into his chair with a long, relieved exhalation, a sure sign that it had been a very busy day at work. A part of Kurt was instantly ready to jump up and make something special for dinner, like he had for years upon hearing that kind of sigh, but it wasn’t his job anymore. It was Carole’s night to cook. The responsibility for taking care of his dad wasn’t all on his shoulders. It was nice to be able to sit, even if he couldn’t lose the reflexes of so many years in the past. He leaned closer to Blaine, just a hair, just because he could.

“We’re making over Nancy Grace,” Blaine replied, gesturing to the laptop.

“Again?” Burt asked.

“ _Still_ ,” Kurt said with a roll of his eyes. “Blaine continues to insist she should stay blonde.”

“I tell you, no matter what color hair she’s got, that lady is always going to be terrifying,” Burt said.

Finn nodded and folded himself down onto a chair. “ _Exactly_.”

“Everybody deserves a makeover, Finn, no matter how dire their personal sense of style,” Kurt said. “I mean, the things I could do if you’d let me shop for you.”

“You are _not_ going anywhere near my clothes,” Finn told him. “No way I’m wearing ties when I don’t have to. And I like socks. Socks are awesome.”

Blaine shifted on the couch beside Kurt, crossing his legs, his bare ankle brushing against Kurt’s calf. Kurt’s offense at the rejection of his makeover abilities turned into offense over Finn’s comments being about Blaine.

“I’ve _smelled_ your socks,” Kurt snapped back. “My nose may never recover, and neither will they.”

There was the sound of a key in the front door, and Carole came in, two plastic grocery bags in her hand. She smiled when she saw them all sitting together, unaware of the undercurrents that had plagued recent minutes. “Well, hello.”

“Oh, Carole, let me help you with the bags,” Blaine said, bouncing up from the couch as he always did when there was work to be done around the house. It was one of the things Kurt loved about him.

Finn also stood up, and the room was suddenly smaller for the way he loomed over them all. “No, you’re a _guest_ , Blaine,” he said, just far enough from sounding rude for anyone to call him on it. “Sit. I’ll help my mother.”

Blaine glanced between Finn and Carole before saying, “If I’m eating the dinner she’s so kindly making, then I should at least help bring in the groceries.”

“It’s not your job,” Finn told him.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t pitch in,” Blaine replied. His posture was relaxed and easy, but he wasn’t shying away from looking Finn directly in the eye. It wasn’t _quite_ confrontational.

Kurt watched the two of them warily. He knew Blaine wasn’t going to attack Finn physically, and he wasn’t particularly worried about Finn, either, but there was something brewing in the air between them that made it feel like an option, anyway.

He sat up straighter and drew a breath to say _something_ to try to defuse or deflect the situation, but Carole beat him to it.

“There are plenty of bags,” she said, shaking her head and heading toward the kitchen. “You _both_ can help.”

“Thank you,” Blaine said, smiled at her, and walked out the door without looking back.

“Fine,” Finn said with an annoyed sigh and followed him.

“What’s gotten into them?” Burt asked Kurt, squinting after them.

“I don’t know,” Kurt replied, sinking back against the cushion and picking at the arm of the couch. But he did know, even though it was ridiculous. “Finn thinks Blaine’s trying to take over Glee club.”

“And is he?”

“No!” Kurt sighed. “No. But Finn’s used to being the leader, and so is Blaine. Blaine’s not trying to step on anyone’s toes - “ Or at least he wasn’t until Finn started pushing back every time Blaine said a word in Glee. “ - but I think he can’t help himself when it comes to giving pep talks and trying to keep the drama to a minimum.”

Burt snorted. “Good luck with that.”

“Yeah.” Kurt smiled at him, glad to have someone who shared his views on the inevitability of the drama. “Blaine’s just not very good at staying quiet in the background.”

“Sounds like someone else I know.” Burt lifted his eyebrows pointedly at him; Kurt raised his eyebrow right back but nodded in acknowledgement.

“It’s not like I’m complaining; most of the time I like that about him, even when he should really give it up for a lost cause. He’s not doing anything wrong. But Finn’s feeling sensitive about it.” Kurt paused as Finn stomped through with about ten plastic grocery bags dangling from his straining hands. He continued more quietly, “ _Overly_ sensitive.”

“The way you boss him around at home, I’m surprised you’re not giving him a run for his money, too,” Burt said, his eyes following Blaine as he came past, more sensibly laden.

“Oh.” Kurt shrugged. “I’m in competition with Rachel, not Finn.”

“For songs and the presidency, sure, but she’s not the guy leading the group.”

Swinging his foot back and forth, Kurt had no idea how to explain to his father the intricacies of his standing in the group or at school, how he didn’t quite fit anywhere, and how most of the time he didn’t really care anymore, except that he couldn’t forget. He knew he’d have little luck with the rest of the club if he tried to step into Finn’s boat-sized shoes. “I have my sights set higher than Glee,” he said as Blaine and Finn walked back through the room. “I’d rather change the school than try to steer the sinking ship that is currently New Directions. The Irish-tenor-in-training Finn found this week doesn’t really make up for the loss of Mercedes, Santana, _and_ Brittany.”

Even Blaine’s Katy Perry performance, as fun and joy-filled as it had been, hadn’t been able to keep them together as a group. If Blaine and Finn couldn’t do it, how could Kurt? Mercedes was his _friend_ , and she had still left; the tension between the groups was getting to the point that he’d be surprised if she sat with them at lunch anymore.

“You guys will pull it together,” his father told him. “You always do.”

Kurt smiled faintly; he hoped it would be true this time, too. “Maybe I can make Glee mandatory for all singers with a certain level of talent when I’m elected class president.”

Burt laughed. “There you go. Glad to see you’ve already got plans to abuse your power.”

“It only makes sense to think ahead so I can hit the ground running.”

This time it was Blaine who came inside first, with Finn following right on his heels and managing to get in front of him by rushing around him in the extra space the room provided.

“Hey, this isn’t a race, guys,” Burt called to them, but Finn didn’t slow down, even as Carole stepped in their path and they had to dodge her.

“Sorry, Mom,” Finn said, barely not smacking her with his bags. Blaine, Kurt was unsurprised to see, had far less problem avoiding her, but then he was both more graceful and more sensible.

“That’s the last of it,” Blaine told her, and she smiled her thanks at him.

There was a crash from the kitchen and the sound of Finn’s muffled swearing.

“It’s okay! Nothing’s broken!” he called.

“It’s going to be very quiet next year,” she said to Burt with a laugh, wiping her hands on the towel she held.

Kurt drew in a shallow breath as he was struck by the image of Carole coming home with groceries for just the two of them, so many fewer bags, and his dad being the only one to help her carry them in. He could see his dad setting the table for two, Carole only putting a few dishes into the dishwasher, and the house silent and tidy around them. No video game explosions, no backpacks tossed in corners, no unexplainable spills on the counter, no music drifting from Kurt’s room. It was a cozy image in its own way, and Kurt was glad that his dad wouldn’t be alone, but it was _so_ different.

It was going to be so different.

“If you want, I can hire the football team to run through once a week,” Burt told her. “So you can still have your fill of cleaning up after teenage boys.”

Carole flicked the towel at him. “You do it and _you’ll_ be the one wielding the mop.”

Kurt couldn’t quite shake the uneasy feeling in his stomach as he and Blaine helped Carole put away the groceries and start on dinner. This was all so familiar to him now, life with Carole and Finn and Blaine, even though a year ago he hadn’t had any of it besides his dad. It was hard to believe it wasn’t going to keep being this way.

“Thank you,” Carole told Blaine, touching his shoulder as she walked past where he was setting the table, and Kurt focused on the moment, because he needed to remember her easy affection and the way Blaine ducked his head as he accepted it.

He needed to remember, because things were changing, and at some point that dynamic in this kitchen would never happen again.

He had all of these plans for what he was going to do, to have, in New York. He had plans for where he wanted to live, what school he would attend, what clothes he would wear, what parts he would play. He had so many plans around leaving.

What he hadn’t quite recognized was that everybody else was moving on with their lives, too. His dad was running against Sue and would have to be in Washington at least part of the time if he won. Finn was going to go to college or whatever it was he was going to do; he might even manage the shop and be the guy with the easy smile who came over to handle the hardest customers instead of Kurt’s father. Blaine would be in a new New Directions, with different members, with people who could replace Kurt and Rachel and Puck and Finn and everyone else who was graduating, if not their specific personalities then at least their voices. Blaine would probably be _leading_ it, or at least he _should_ be, having new experiences and singing new songs without Kurt, and it was all so _different_. With the girls gone to Shelby’s group, it already _was_ different.

“I’m sure I don’t need to tell you, but make sure the sauce doesn’t break, Kurt,” Carole said, and Kurt turned his attention away from watching his family and focused his eyes if not his mind back on whisking.

“I don’t think Kurt’s let a sauce break since he was in middle school,” Burt said.

Blaine coughed, and Kurt knew he was thinking of the hollandaise incident over the summer, though they’d agreed never to mention it and though there were extenuating circumstances having to do with needing to pin an incredibly hot boyfriend up against the counter and kiss him senseless.

“Three minutes ‘til we’re ready,” Carole said. “Now, where did Finn go?”

The changes coming were all good, or most of them were, but when Kurt had been making his plans for New York he hadn’t really taken into account the fact that he would never be able to come back to the way things were right now, not even to visit while wearing some fabulous new outfit of his own creation inspired by his new home. He wanted out of Lima so badly he could taste the bagels and smell the subway if he closed his eyes, he wanted to get away from the omnipresent homophobia and small minds and even smaller imaginations in his town, and yet it was a disorienting thought to know he could never, ever return to the life he was living. He couldn’t even predict where all of the changes would be, because nothing was guaranteed, not acceptance letters, not his dad’s health, not the steadfast nature of Blaine’s heart, nothing.

It was like he suddenly realized he was a kite adrift on the wind when he’d thought he was tethered by an infinitely long string. He still wanted to soar, he was _going to_ , but it made the bottom drop out of his stomach that he could never follow the string back to where he was now.

He felt a warm hand on his knee under the dinner table, and he belatedly realized Blaine had been carrying Kurt’s part of a conversation about Burt’s campaign. He snapped his attention up from the food he was toying with on his plate to his family around him.

“You okay, kid?” Burt asked.

Kurt summoned up a smile from somewhere. “I’m just planning your campaign posters. I’ll have mock-ups of five designs and four buttons for you by the end of the day tomorrow.”

“Kurt’s finally going to let me use the hot glue gun,” Blaine added cheerily.

“Remember, no rhinestones,” Burt said, pointing his fork at Kurt.

“Of course not, Dad.” Kurt had a whole array of non-rhinestone embellishments for the buttons.

“How come I don’t get to use the hot glue gun?” Finn asked.

Kurt just looked at him; he hadn’t forgotten preparing for their parents’ wedding. He’d had to buy a new bedazzler after Finn had somehow bent his.

“I can’t believe you even asked that, honey,” Carole said, patting Finn’s shoulder.

“I bet I could figure it out,” Finn muttered. “It’s just glue.”

“It’s just a second degree burn,” Kurt said.

Carole laughed and patted Finn again. “You’ll be able to help in plenty of other ways.”

“Don’t worry; we’ll be giving you three so much work to do for the campaign that Sue will come at me for breaking child labor laws,” Burt told them, and it warmed Kurt’s heart that Blaine was included like it was a given that he would be there every step in the way. In Kurt’s mind it was, but he was still feeling shaky; the extra affirmation made it a touch easier to push thoughts of the future further aside.

Still, later that night when he and Blaine were sitting doing their homework on his bed while they waited for the glue to dry on the first posters, he found himself watching Blaine’s face instead of doing his reading. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, being distracted by Blaine, but this time it wasn’t driven by the giddy thrill of being near him or the relentless, visceral pull that Kurt had to shy away from so often in his presence these days. Kurt was simply happy to have him there, and so with no logic whatsoever he felt sad about it, about how easy it was and how easy it was not going to be in the future... until maybe later it would be even easier, when they were together again, all of the time.

He sighed but didn’t look away. The line of Blaine’s jaw was shadowed with the hint of stubble Kurt knew would feel delightfully rough beneath his fingertips and lips. He knew how enticing Blaine’s throat would smell at the warm edge of his collar. He knew how Blaine’s eyes would soften and darken just looking at him in the seconds before they kissed. He knew so much about Blaine, and it was easy to think that these would always be his constants in his changing world. He wanted to think that Blaine would be at his side through all of the twists and turns of his life, but just as he could never come back to this moment he also couldn’t know what the future would hold. He’d learned that lesson the day his mother had died, and he was learning it again.

Nothing was a given in this world, good or bad. Nothing. There were so many uncertainties, and no matter how hard he worked to reach his goals and make the world give him what he wanted, he couldn’t actually count on anything to be there. Not that he wouldn’t keep trying, because maybe he _could_ have it all, and he was damn well going to stack the deck as best he could in his favor.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Blaine asked softly, looking at Kurt with worried eyes when Kurt blinked himself back to the present.

Kurt nodded, because he didn’t know how to explain why he wasn’t.

“You’re quiet,” Blaine said. “Are you upset about the Finn thing? Because I don’t think I started it, but I can try to talk to him one-on-one if you think that’d help.”

A surge of raw affection flooded through Kurt at Blaine’s adorable and apparently innate need to be a good person. “I don’t think anything less than a swift kick in the ass would help him,” Kurt said; he was far less good than his boyfriend, but it didn’t bother him. He reached out for Blaine’s hand and rubbed his thumb over Blaine’s knuckles. It was comforting to feel the bone there, solid and unyielding, just _there_ , beneath his skin. “It isn’t your fault. He’s the one with the problem. He’s the one who’s feeling threatened.”

“Yeah.” Blaine shrugged and looked down at their hands. “I guess I thought we were friends, or at least friendly.”

“That was before you came to McKinley and seduced everyone in his Glee club with your peppy singing and selection of brightly colored bow ties.” Kurt squeezed Blaine’s fingers and was happy to get a smile in return. He knew Blaine’s transition hadn’t been the easiest in that regard, especially since he was so used to being accepted as a leader at Dalton.

“Who can resist a bow tie?” Blaine asked, still tight around the eyes.

“Certainly not me,” Kurt told him and leaned up on his knees to get closer. He couldn’t fix Blaine’s problem and certainly couldn’t fix all of the things wrong with Finn, but he could make him feel better for a little while.

Blaine watched him, his eyes going dark and deep, as Kurt moved the book from Blaine’s lap and pushed him onto his back with a gentle hand on his chest. Kurt slid up next to him, propping himself up on his elbow so that he could look down into his face.

“Although,” Kurt said, “it’s only fair to point out that you’re not wearing a tie today.” He let his fingers drift over the skin just above Blaine’s collar, and he felt as much as heard Blaine’s quick indrawn breath. “And yet you’re still irresistible.”

“So are you.” Blaine touched Kurt’s cheek with the tips of his fingers, his other hand coming up to settle on Kurt’s side.

Kurt smiled down at him and watched the emotions swirling in Blaine’s eyes and face. He couldn’t identify them all, but he could see need, adoration, amusement, and anticipation all wrapped together. There was nothing that wasn’t wanting, that wasn’t willing, that wasn’t waiting for Kurt. There was nothing that wasn’t wonderful. It didn’t surprise him, being looked at that way by Blaine, not anymore, but it was still amazing.

Kurt’s heart caught in his throat, and his smile widened with joy from the sureness of the knowledge that filled him. “You love me.”

“I do,” Blaine told him, and there was still no hesitation or hint of uncertainty. His eyes didn’t waver from looking directly into Kurt’s. He didn’t run from it or hide from it; he just let his feelings sit openly on his face, and Kurt drank them in and memorized like a snapshot just how Blaine’s handsome face looked so full of warmth for _him_.

“I love you, too,” Kurt said, and Blaine’s smile bloomed like the sun breaking over the horizon. Its brightness chased Kurt’s worries into the shadows at the edges of his mind.

“I know.”

Something shifted in Kurt’s chest as some of his worries dissipated. They weren’t gone, he knew they weren’t, nothing had changed, but _this_ , them, this very minute, sharply focused and quiet and theirs, was so much more important than the hazy unknowns of the future. This was the thing he wanted. This was the thing he wanted to carry with him. He might, if he were unlucky, not be able to count on it forever, but he could count on it right _now_.

“Then the question is,” he said, a little hoarse, “why am I not kissing you?”

Blaine’s brows drew together in question as if he knew something was going on beneath the surface, but he said, “I was wondering that myself.” His hand had drawn tight in Kurt’s shirt, like he wanted to take charge, but he stayed still and watched Kurt’s eyes.

“The world is a mysterious place,” Kurt said with the ghost of a smirk as he leaned down to find Blaine’s mouth with his own. Sparks flew between them immediately, as they always did, and Kurt couldn’t help the soft sound of approval that escaped from his throat as Blaine cupped his jaw and opened his mouth beneath Kurt’s for his lips, for his tongue, for his breath, for everything. Blaine accepted everything and gave it all back, and Kurt leaned closer, his leg, his chest, his mouth on Blaine’s, his fingers brushing along Blaine’s throat, soaking in the warmth of his skin and the vibrations of his moans. This was real. This was now. This was everything.

“Kurt,” Blaine whispered, his fingers slipping into Kurt’s hair and tilting his head so that Blaine could mouth along his jaw. The kisses were searing, burning Kurt’s flesh and making his blood flash hot.

His family was in the house, and Kurt knew they were temping fate even going this far. Someone was going to come upstairs. In a minute, Kurt was going to stop caring if they did.

“We have to stop,” he said, already breathless.

“I know,” Blaine said, but he didn’t stop, didn’t let go, didn’t move even a fraction of an inch away. He just caught Kurt’s mouth again and kissed him more deeply. Kurt’s body was singing with Blaine’s touch like a crystal goblet resonating with just the right pitch. They were only _kissing_ , and he was ready to fly apart into a thousand pieces.

“Blaine,” Kurt said, getting a hand on the bed and pushing himself back to sit upright. The world spun in lazy circles around him.

Blaine drew in a slow, shuddering breath, but he nodded and only lay there for a moment or two more before pulling himself up to a sitting position. “I’m sorry,” he offered.

“No.” Kurt shook his head. “Just... give me a rain check?”

“Always,” Blaine said, reaching to take Kurt’s hand and smiling at him again.

Kurt tucked the word and the sweetness of the smile deep into his heart as he curled his fingers around Blaine’s and pulled him off the bed before he gave into the urge to kiss him again.

“Ready to make more posters?” he asked. “This election isn’t going to win itself.”

“Do I get to use the hot glue gun again?” Blaine asked.

“Oh, god, I’ve created a monster,” Kurt said, and he took a mental picture of Blaine’s exaggerated growling monster face and tucked that away, too.

**Author's Note:**

> (I am largely unspoiled for 3x05 beyond the promo, and PLEASE do not talk about it with me before it airs.)


End file.
